


Of a Brightness

by Empatheia



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 00:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Empatheia
Summary: Winters manages to get his team foisted off on Klaud, who isn't sure how to feel about that. At first.





	1. Regrowth

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday present for my dear friend [Crane](http://sherilapologist.tumblr.com/) back in March. Incomplete, but I keep picking away at it so it'll have an ending eventually.

Klaud read the memorandum again.

She always read anything written in Komui's jagged scrawl twice just to make sure she'd parsed it all, but she'd read this upwards of half a dozen times now. 

Her feelings were... very mixed.

On the one hand, she had and did feel sorry for all the members of Team Socalo: Redux, because no one should have to risk their lives under the direction of the kind of person who would mock their corpses in their coffins. Anyone deserved better than that.

On the other, she was still struggling to come to terms with having a new team herself, so soon after losing her old one in such tragic and spectacular fashion. Though she was far from emotionally fragile, overall, the idea of becoming attached to new underlings and then losing them as she had the others was... daunting. She wasn't sure she could make it through that intact. Her mortal human heart could only take so much grief.

The contents of the memo did give her joy, and some relief, but also more than a little trepidation. Or perhaps that was too weak a word;  _ dread _ might be more fitting.

A timid knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she said sharply. A little more sharply than she'd intended; she felt very much on edge at the moment.

The door to her quarters creaked open just far enough to let Miranda Lotto's thin, stooped figure slip inside.

Coming to the Order had done wonders for the woman in many ways -- she was no longer the haggard ghost described by the report of the mission where she'd been discovered -- but she was still far from spirited or robust. She would probably never really be either of those, or anything like them, but she could be less like she had been, and that was close enough to be getting on with.

Of all the unlucky members of Socalo Redux, Klaud had pitied Miranda the most, and had occasionally entertained the odd daydream of stealing her away to a unit where she'd be better treated and valued more.

Very mixed feelings.

"I thought I should come introduce myself," said Miranda, turning a pale and delicate shade of pink within the dark frame of her hair. "Since I'll be joining your unit, I mean. Or should I not have?" The idea that she might have misstepped drained all of that pretty pink straight back out of her face at once, and she began to wring her hands a little.

Klaud might have laughed, if she hadn't taken the time to read that mission report in full after receiving the memorandum, along with any pertaining to the other subordinates she was about to gain. It no longer seemed to her like Miranda's dramatic terror of making even the slightest mistake was something to be laughed at. Quite the opposite.

"Thank you for coming," Klaud said quietly, and gestured to an armchair near her desk. Not in front of it -- she did not generally conduct interviews as part of her duties -- but near enough that they could converse without raising their voices.

Miranda gingerly lowered herself onto the edge of the dark green velvet cushion and perched there like a nervous, peaky cormorant. "Um," she said tentatively, "I hope our reassignment isn't going to inconvenience you?"

Klaud sighed, putting the memo down. "No, Ms. Lotto, it does not. I expected it sooner or later, and sooner is just as well. Now, as for you: what are your feelings on being reassigned to me?"

If possible, Miranda shrank in on herself a little further, eyes darting nervously around the room as if searching for holes to stuff herself into or swords to throw herself upon should the need arise. "It's an honour, ma'am, and I look forward to working with you," she said in a near whisper.

"Thank you," Klaud said, "but that isn't what I meant. How do you feel about being taken from the general you've been serving for the last number of months?"

"Oh," said Miranda in a tiny voice, as if she had hoped to avoid the question. "Well, um, to tell the truth--"

"Yes, please do," Klaud said encouragingly, scrounging up a smile from somewhere to help things along. It was a bit anemic -- her crop had withered with the deaths of her team, and she had not yet managed to raise much of a new one -- but it would do for the moment.

Miranda bit her lip, worried it a bit, then spit it out all in a rush. "Meaning no disrespect to General Socalo, ma'am, I... don't think I was very helpful to him," she said, evidently searching frantically for the least offensive words that would communicate her point. "His style is very effective for him, but he doesn't really have any use for um, non-offensive support. I mostly just sat on the sidelines and did very little. I don't think he likes me," she said mournfully, "and I wonder if he's sending me away because I was too much of a burden."

Klaud drew a deep breath. All of a sudden, her feelings were much less mixed.

However much pain it might cause her in the future, this woman was definitely better off with her than where she had been. Without question. They all were.

"Ms. Lotto," she said, slowly and deliberately, "Winters doesn't like anyone, and that is not your fault. His disinclination to make use of you as part of his team was also not your fault; that was due to his own limitations, not yours. You did nothing wrong. I think you will be much happier on my team, if you'll allow me to be so presumptuous."

"Oh, not at all!" Miranda burst out, waving her hands and turning quite red. "I mean, my happiness isn't really relevant anyway, though, is it? I'm here to help the war effort, so I want to be made use of, if there's anything I can do."

An urge so bizarre that Klaud had to take a few moments to recognize it rose up in her chest then, all of a sudden, crowding into her throat so that it was suddenly hard to speak. The urge was this: she wanted to get up and go give Miranda a hug. She very  _ much _ wanted to do that. It was something she hadn't done in years; generals did not hug their subordinates, as it led to confusion about authority and eroded the chain of command. It wasn't something she was going to do now, however much she wanted to. It still took a surprising amount of effort to stay on her side of the desk.

Clasping her hands together in her lap, she closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself, then stood up and proffered a hand across her desk. A compromise. "The honour is likewise mine," she said.

Startled, Miranda scrambled to her feet and stumbled across the few feet between the armchair and the desk to clasp Klaud's hand in her own somewhat damp and uncertain grip. "Thank you, General Nine," she stammered. "Um. I'm sorry for interrupting your work. I'll go now."

Released Klaud's hand, she gathered herself and turned to do exactly that.

"Actually," said Klaud, compromising a little more now that the levee was beginning to crumble, "why don't you stay a while and keep me company? I'm somewhat used to having someone around while I do this." 

Involuntarily, she thought of Marian, drinking in that same armchair and flirting relentlessly while she focused on her paperwork in lieu of focusing on him. Beautiful, obnoxious Marian, whom she had been so sure would outlive her, and perhaps the Order itself; too much a law unto himself to ever bend his neck to the final sentence laid on all humankind. She didn't want to think about Marian, because she had her hands full with all the rest of her grief already. She didn't, so she focused on Miranda instead, as hard as she could.

Miranda was hesitating, clearly unsure as to whether the offer was serious or not and terrified of guessing wrong.

Another smile bloomed on Klaud's face, watching her, and this one was a surprise. She hadn't thought she had any like it left, in the frost-withered garden she called her heart.

"I'm quite serious," she said. "If you have other duties to attend to, or would prefer to retire to your quarters, I will understand, but otherwise it would please me if you'd stay."

Brightening visibly at the unambiguous indication that she was wanted -- something Klaud felt sure she still hadn't had very many of, in any area of her life -- Miranda nodded, her shoulders relaxing as she returned to the armchair. "Um," she said. "Should I do anything? Can I help?"

Klaud considered that for a moment. The mission report from Rewinding Town had described her as situationally talkative, but only when riled up about something. Otherwise, she tended towards moody, withdrawn silences, but could be coaxed into milder conversation on safer topics. The report was somewhat outdated now, though, so it was hard to know what 'safer topics' might entail, or if that caveat was even necessary anymore.

"I've read your file," she said eventually, which made Miranda start. "It covers most of your stay with us so far, but the section pertaining to your journey eastwards to rendezvous with the rest of Team Cross is largely blank. Would you tell me about it?"

"I-I could, if you'd like," Miranda said, thin brows furrowing.

"I find it soothing to listen to someone talk while I work," Klaud said honestly, though she left out what kind of talk Miranda's predecessor had usually favoured. "If you'd rather talk about something else, be my guest. If I want you to stop, I will let you know; otherwise, please assume that you're doing well."

Miranda nodded, looking faintly ill, but she didn't beg to be given leave or run away in terror, so Klaud decided this was something Miranda could probably handle. It would make her feel more comfortable around Klaud, hopefully, and also afford Klaud the opportunity to learn a few things about her new subordinate.

"Well... um," Miranda began. "I suppose I should start with when I left Headquarters?"

"That will do," Klaud agreed, and turned her eyes down to her paperwork as Miranda haltingly began to tell her story.

Slowly, as it became evident that Klaud wasn't planning on stopping her, she began to stammer less and speak in a more animated voice. She wasn't a bad storyteller, once her nerves got out of the way a bit. Wonder came through in her voice when she described the steppes and their horsemen, the colours and smells of the various vibrant cities she had passed through, the long roads and their weary caravans, the breadth and depth of the sky at the roof of the world. She had met many people, and learned many things, and that miserable little coffin of a town she'd done all of her living in before that time had become so much smaller for her now, when compared to the rest of the world she'd only vaguely understood was out there before.

Klaud was tremendously, painfully endeared, listening to it all. It wasn't often that coming to the Order was a step up for anyone, but it had clearly been about a dozen steps up for Miranda, and it was refreshing to see someone who was better off for being here. Most had either had no choice or had chosen this difficult path out of the belief that it was the right thing to do. She pitied the former and respected the latter, but they both made for some grim company. Miranda hadn't really had a choice, but she had chosen to come anyway before the Order needed to force the issue, and it was a choice she was glad to make.

It was a one ray of sunshine through the gloom and muck that made up much of the rest of Klaud's life.

She was glad that she was going to have Miranda in her unit from now on, despite all those fears and misgivings. In a world as dark as theirs, they needed to gather and shelter what light they could find, wherever they found it, to keep it from going out.

Klaud meant to do her best to keep this one burning as long as she could.

**x**   



	2. Illuminated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over to Miranda.

Miranda exhaled with shivery relief as she closed the door to Klaud Nine's quarters behind herself.

 

Somehow, she had managed to avoid mucking things up for several hours at a stretch. That might be some sort of record. Not counting the hours when she was sleeping, anyhow, though she had mucked things up by being asleep when she shouldn't have been enough times that perhaps they  _ ought _ to count.

 

Her new general had seen her off with a smile and a gentle hand on her upper arm, and a reiteration of the fact that she was looking forward to working with Miranda.

 

That seemed a little outlandish, but disbelieving the general would be ruder and riskier than believing her, however difficult it was to accept the idea.

 

She had seen General Nine several times before, but only from some distance, and always in the midst of a crowd. Alone in her own quarters, she was much... softer, at least around the edges. Not a fearsome warrior, not a taciturn authority; just a beautiful but human woman not all that much older than Miranda, with a great deal of the world weighing down her weary shoulders.

 

Miranda hadn't realized how beautiful she was, seeing her as she usually did, through the mess-hall throng under its over-bright lights. She had looked harsh and drawn, a nicked and dented steel blade of a woman who had seen too many battlefields.

 

In the warm, tender lamplight of her quarters, with her pale golden hair down around her shoulders and her clavicles bared by her dressing gown, she had seemed an entirely different person. Even her scar seemed like a deliberate adornment, painted onto and into her skin in striking jagged lines.

 

Walking slowly through the halls back to her own quarters, Miranda tried to time her heartbeat to her footsteps, to calm the wild racing. Her face still felt flushed. Her nerves were thoroughly wracked. 

 

And yet... somehow, it hadn't been as difficult as usual. General Nine was in some way easier to be around than most of the people she had known, and even most of the people she had met since coming here. The only other people she felt similarly at ease with were Allen, Lenalee, and Marie. She hadn't expected it from her new superior officer, but she certainly wasn't complaining. In fact, it made her feel almost cheerful. She didn't dread the future much at all at the moment.

 

How refreshing.

 

Safely snuggled into her bed, a few minutes later on, she drew her sheets up to her chest and stared through the darkness at the high, vaulted ceiling. 

 

She couldn't seem to stop thinking about how General Nine's fingers had cradled her quill, light and graceful, even after hours of writing. How her hair glinted and shone in the lamplight, pale as fool's gold. How she had smiled whenever she looked up so that Miranda would know it was still all right to keep going, and how cool her hand had been through the fabric of Miranda's sleeve. Soft, and gentle. Not cold, but not truly warm, either; the welcome and euphoric comparative warmth of the spring thaw after a vicious winter.

 

Her feelings almost verged on giddy, she realized. That wasn't something she felt very often. Smiling to herself, she savoured it until she fell asleep.

 

**x**


	3. Care and Consideration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Klaud.

Klaud couldn't focus on the Finder reports she was meant to be scouring for useful intelligence.

 

In the last half hour, she thought, she had probably read the same page over four or five times without retaining much of anything.

 

She had taken her team out for their first joint mission that week, and they had all come back in one piece. Her anxiety had subsided, if only by one small notch. They were both capable Exorcists, no longer vulnerably inexperienced greenhorns, and they could take care of themselves and of each other. They weren't all going to fall over like toy soldiers the moment her attention lapsed. Working with them had been a joy, as she had hoped and expected.

 

Arystar Krory's nigh-invulnerability made him a tremendously useful frontline fighter, allowing Klaud to stay back and send Lau Shimin wherever it would be most useful. Miranda, at her back, protected them all from incurring any permanent harm during the shorter skirmishes, and temporarily undid the worst of the damage in the longer ones so they could all keep fighting until they won. They were both smart enough that she did not have to explain every point of the strategy to them for them to understand the purpose of her orders. They did not argue, with her or with each other, and they were mindful of each other's well-being at all times.

 

They also got along very well with her more senior subordinates, Lenalee Lee and Timothy Hearst. Timothy seemed tremendously fond of Krory, and not at all afraid of him, and Miranda and Lenalee giggled like girlfriends together whenever they had five spare minutes to themselves. Krory could always tell which Akuma was Timothy's current host by the smell of its blood, and always took that side of the battlefield so that Klaud and Lenalee could wreak havoc without worry on the other. 

 

She tried her best not to compare them to her old team, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped. In most areas, the new team came out better off. Sol and Gwen had fought like angry cats, and Tina's ineffectual attempts to broker peace often made things worse. Gwen had argued nearly every order she'd given, and Sol -- even worse -- had agreed to her face only to do whatever he liked once his boots hit the field. Tina had constantly tried to ingratiate herself, ravenous for praise even when praise was not really in order.

 

Klaud had cared for them very much as people, but as subordinates they had been... difficult. It was a joy to work with a team that actually had some interest in working  _ as _ a team. 

 

At the end, after the last of the enemy lay dissolving into poisonous dust in the dirt, Miranda had collapsed into her arms, wan and sweaty and too exhausted to maintain consciousness. Klaud had carried her home in Lau Shimin's arms, and stayed by her bedside until she had awoken with a storm of fretful apologies.

 

For some reason, every time Klaud tried to focus on the words in front of her, all she could seem to see was Miranda's radiant smile of relief when she learned that she had not collapsed until everyone was safe. The dark hair clinging to her damp forehead. The way she had clung to Klaud's hand as Klaud walked slowly alongside Lau Shimin, making sure it stayed activated and didn't drop Miranda. Her miserably erratic breath as she had fought her way back to consciousness.

 

She'd never be pretty, exactly, not with those haunted eyes and hollow cheeks, but there was something arresting about her face, something in the intensity of those dark, dark eyes.

 

Sighing with resignation, Klaud put the papers down and rang the bell to summon a chambermaid.

 

"Would you ask Ms. Miranda Lotto if she feels well enough to attend me?" she asked when the maid arrived.

 

Curtsying, the maid ran off to did as she asked.

 

Scarcely ten minutes later, her door creaked open again to admit Miranda, who still looked rather wan and unsubstantial. The dark circles around her eye sockets were deep as bruises, and her hair hung dull and listless around her face. "I came as fast as I could, General," she said. "Is there something I can do?"

 

Klaud sighed. "I said only to come if you were well enough," she said pointedly.

 

Miranda looked faintly befuddled. "I feel fine."

 

"You look halfway to death's door," Klaud said. "You shouldn't have gotten out of bed."

 

"Really, I'm fine," Miranda said, discomfited. "I've been much worse off than this after other missions. If I can help, I'd rather be here."

 

Giving up, Klaud gestured towards the armchair. "Sit down, then. You don't have to talk today. Go back to sleep, if you can sleep sitting up."

 

Frowning, Miranda took her seat but didn't make herself comfortable. "That's all? You don't have anything for me to do?"

 

"If you'd prefer to go back to your bed, I'll encourage you to do that," Klaud said. "If you want to help, though, it's enough if you just sit there and keep me company."

 

Uneasy but appeased, Miranda curled up in the chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. She didn't go to sleep, despite the palpable air of exhaustion surrounding her; she just sat and watched Klaud leaf through the reports as though hypnotized by the rasp of paper against paper and the wavering lamplight. She hardly seemed to blink. It would have been a little unsettling, if Klaud hadn't had the measure of her already and known that there was nothing sly or dangerous behind those black eyes. 

 

With those eyes on her, it suddenly seemed very easy to confine her focus to the papers in her hands. She blew through the reports in two hours, tidily noting down every lead she felt was worth following up on. 

 

When she was finished, she stacked them neatly with her list on top and got to her feet to walk silently over to where Miranda dozed in her chair in exactly the same position she had started in except for her cheek resting on her knees. Her hair fell over the lower half of her face in disorganized clumps, rustling slightly with her breath.

 

Klaud reached out and brushed it back, tucked it behind her ear.

 

Miranda was immediately awake, bleary but alert. "Should I go, General?" she asked timidly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

 

"You might recall that I told you to," Klaud reminded her dryly. "Thank you for your assistance. I've finished my work for the night, so if you'd like to go back to bed, you are welcome to do so."

 

After a face-twisting yawn that nearly unhinged her jaw, Miranda mumbled something unintelligible.

 

Klaud knelt before the armchair to get close enough to hear and asked her to repeat it.

 

"M'comfortable," Miranda said sleepily. "Sorry. I'm going. I'm--" She interrupted herself with a little grunt of pain as she stretched out a bruised leg. Her powers didn't work on herself.

 

Putting a hand on her arm, Klaud shook her head. "No, if you're comfortable, you stay right where you are. I don't mind."

 

Miranda blinked at her. Those eyes were like ten-day rainclouds, an opaque grey so dark and dense it felt like any light that struck them could only be swallowed without a ripple. "Is that really all right?" she asked, cautious and disbelieving. "I'm in your quarters. Won't you be disturbed?"

 

Rubbing her thumb over Miranda's fragile forearm, Klaud tried not to notice how thin and frail Miranda really was. She was only two inches shorter than Klaud herself, but easily thirty pounds lighter. There was hardly anything to her but shadows and aches and tears. A raincloud of a person, with eyes to match. "Can I tell you a secret?" Klaud said softly.

 

"Um," said Miranda, "if you're all right with me knowing?"

 

She was. It wasn't a secret she guarded particularly closely; much of Winters' disdain for her came from knowing it, and most anyone who spent enough time with her came to realize eventually whether she told them or not. "I don't like to be alone," she said. "When I'm alone, my thoughts go to dark places, and I can't always tell whether they make much sense or not. It's easier for me when I have someone nearby."

 

"Oh," said Miranda is a small voice. "I think I know that feeling, maybe. If it's all right, then, I'll stay."

 

Klaud gave her a smile. They were easier to come by lately.

 

"Thank you, Miranda. Sleep well." As she stood up to retire to her own bed, she laid her hand affectionately along the side of Miranda's face, just for a moment. 

 

Miranda leaned slightly into it, almost instinctively, then ducked her face into her knees to hide her creeping blush.

 

Klaud gathered that up and planted it in the garden of her heart, wondering what fruit it would bear when it grew.

 

She slept more deeply than she had in months.

 

**x**


	4. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda.

Miranda woke up like a knot of wood being painfully untied, thin sunlight streaming over her shoulders from the tall, narrow windows behind her. The general was already up, she realized. Up, about, and fully dressed, to boot. She looked just about to ready to head out into the field.

 

Mortified, Miranda forced her stiff body to unfold and propel her out of the armchair up to her feet. "I overslept! I'm so sorry!" she wailed. "Am I late? Where are we going?"

 

The general laughed.

 

Arrested, Miranda forgot what she thought she might be meant to be doing at the moment and stared. She'd never heard the general laugh before. Even her rare smiles were rationed out like the precious things they were. It didn't transform her face so much as it alchemized it, from fool's gold to true aurum. First thaw to full blush.

 

Miranda's heart turned over in her chest with a heavy thump.

 

"No, Miranda," the general said gently, the radiance of that laugh lingering around the corners of her eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for, you aren't late for anything, and you are going nowhere unless it's back to bed. I have some errands to take care of, but our next mission doesn't start for three more days. All you need to do right now is rest up and look after yourself so you're at full strength for the next fight."

 

"Yes, ma'am," Miranda said meekly. "Thank you, ma'am. I hope you slept well, ma'am."

 

"You know," said the general with a slight crinkle in her brow, "I actually did. Perhaps I have you to thank."

 

Miranda waved her hands. "Surely not," she demurred. "All I did was sit here and snore. I did snore, didn't I? It must have been so noisy, I'm sorry--"

 

"You did not," the general assured her. "You were quiet as a mouse. I slept very soundly. I may have to find you a cot for next time, though, sleeping sitting up all bunched up in a ball like that can't have been very restful."

 

"I slept like that all the time before I came here," Miranda informed her with a little half-shrug. She didn't want to think about those days. She still had a long way to go before she could become someone she was proud to be, but she had already come a long league from where she had been. That beer-soaked wreck with her back to the barren white wall was like an ugly ghost, haunting her present and clouding her future. How she wished she could erase what she had been. "I'm used to it."

 

The look on the general's face wasn't pity, exactly, but it was close enough to be uncomfortable. "As I said, I'll find you a cot."

 

The import of the other half of what she had said suddenly struck Miranda, and she was nearly bowled over.  _ Next time? _ Not only was the general not upset with her, she wanted this to happen again? That was incomprehensible, and made Miranda feel like her skin might crack open with all the joy that was suddenly trying its best to burst out.

 

"C-can I do anything before you go?" she asked instead, trying to hold that in and conduct herself with some tiny measure of grace instead.

 

The general thought for a moment, then nodded. "Could you send me off?" She looked like she might try to explain that for a moment, then clearly decided against it.

 

Miranda could guess. It was so lonely to leave an empty house. No one to know that you had left, no one to welcome you back when you returned. It was like it didn't matter if you were there at all. "Go safely, and come safely home," she said. 

 

"Thank you," said the general. As she swept past Miranda on her way to the door, she briefly her laid her hand against Miranda's cheek again, like she had the night before. "I'm off, then."

 

Her cheek continued to tingle for a long moment after the door swung firmly shut at the general's back. She put her own hand over it to keep the tingles from escaping. She wanted to keep them forever.

 

A cot, she thought. A welcome-home, too, as if they were family or something.

 

Or something.  

 

She ought to go back to her own quarters, she knew. It would be strange and impolite to loiter around the general's rooms when the general herself was not there. Her quarters were only a few floors up; surely she could manage the stairs by now.

 

Instead, she sank back down into the armchair, curled up comfortably, and closed her eyes. 

 

In a little while, she would go down to the mess hall and eat as much as she could manage, and then she would go back to her quarters from there. Just a few more minutes in this sanctuary couldn't hurt.

 

She hoped the general wouldn't be gone too long.

 

**x**


	5. Foray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaud.

Klaud turned in her blankets, missing her quarters and her bed desperately.

 

She had been fighting for many years, and no longer found the ground all that uncomfortable, but insomnia stalked her through this night though she needed sleep very badly.

 

A weary thought drifted across her wakeful, enervated mind: she wished Miranda were there.

 

Perhaps, with Miranda sleeping in a defensive ball somewhere off to the side, she would be able to banish the insomnia as she could at home.

 

_...Home? _

 

That thought startled her. Unlike many of her compatriots, she had never thought of the Order as any kind of home, though she had done her best to make it as kind and welcoming as one for those under her command. It was a garrison, and she could not lose sight of that. Had never been able to look past that even if she'd wanted to. She had no home but the battlefield.

 

Something in her was beginning to disagree with that, though, something subtle but insistent. She did not just want to return to base for debriefing and resupply; she was homesick, and that was a very different feeling. 

 

Once again, mixed. Should she welcome it as a positive shift? Or should she quash it as a dangerous weakness? It had the potential to be either, and both. 

 

She was too exhausted to decide tonight.

 

Instead, she gazed up through the heavy branches of the spreading pine she slept under, letting the stained moonlight seep into her eyes and pool at the back of her head. A few stars were visible in the gaps as well, but the sky was slightly hazy with the smoke of a distant wildfire, so they were faint and tremulous.

 

It was easier on her heart to work alone like this, but harder on the rest of her resources. Goals were simply easier to accomplish with a few helping hands. This mission had required stealth more than anything else, so she had opted to go on her own, but that had meant accomplishing all the requisite tasks alone as well, and that had drained her heavily.

 

The gate wasn't far off, standing in the nave of a church half a day's run from where she had made camp. She would reach it easily tomorrow. 

 

The idea of getting up and marching for hours made her wish the earth would swallow her, though. She needed rest to move again, but sleep just would not come.

 

Sighing, she closed her eyes anyway and did the best she could. Lau Shimin curled up against the side of her throat and made a couple of high-pitched, contented noises before settling into sleep himself. She envied him the ease with which he left the world behind.

 

On the backs of her eyelids, images of solace began to play, furtive and disjointed. Her favourite cafe in Vienna, on a late summer evening when the air warm and rich with shadows. The roof of the old Order headquarters, the tower by the sea, where she had liked to stand with the ceaseless salt wind in her face until all the grime and misery of her life and its unwinnable war was stripped away and she felt raw and clean. Her quarters, soft and shadowed, with her massive cloudlike bed encompassing her... and Miranda, sitting in the armchair with her eyes drooping shut, a book in danger of falling from her loosening fingers.

 

How she yearned to be home.

 

With that image firm in her mind, she eventually managed to dig her way down into the restful spaces beneath the world, and did not wake until the sun dragged her back up with it.

 

**x**


	6. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda.

The general returned on the evening of the second day, looking weary and somewhat the worse for wear.

Miranda made sure her uniform was properly cleaned and fixed up and combed her hair thoroughly before going to greet her at the gate, and as a consequence felt awkwardly overdressed next to the general's dishevelled state. She and the happy medium seemed doomed to never meet, apparently.

"W-welcome home," she stammered, blushing and discreetly wringing her hands behind her back.

The general's eyes focused, then sharpened. "Ms. Lotto," she said, with a glimmer of genuine cheer. "You remembered. Thank you. I'm back."

"Are you all right?" Miranda asked, concerned. She reached out a hand to catch the general's elbow, steadying her when she swayed.

"I've had worse," the general said with a ghost of a smile, echoing her own words from earlier. "I just need a good night's rest. Will you escort me back to my quarters?"

Miranda nodded vigorously and took up her position at the Klaud's side.

"I'm glad to see that you look better," the general commented as they made their arduous way up the stairs. "You've been taking proper care of yourself?"

"You told me to," Miranda said, blushing some more, feeling very young and oddly giddy. "I may not be good for much, but I can do as I'm told, at least."

Klaud stopped dead on the stairs and turned to face her, wearing a deadly earnest expression. "Please don't say such things," she said. "You must know it isn't true."

Frowning, Miranda tried to follow. "I'm sorry, general."

"Sorry for what?" Klaud asked, edging towards exasperation. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"For... saying those things," Miranda said, fumbling to keep up. "I didn't mean to upset you."

For a moment, Klaud just stared at her. Then she heaved a sigh and looped her arm through Miranda's. "We're going to have to have a long talk about this," she said sternly, "but not right here, not right now. I'm too tired. Take me to my quarters, please."

Miserably, Miranda nodded and helped nearly push her up the last flight of stairs.

When she got to the door and turned to retreat, though, Klaud caught her arm.

"I'm not upset with you, Miranda," she said gently. "You don't need to apologize, or do anything to make it right. You're just fine."

The rush of relief was so heady Miranda nearly fell back down the stairs they'd just climbed. "Thank you, general," she said, willing herself not to cry.

Leaning heavily on the door, Klaud smiled wryly. "Now that we've cleared that up a bit: can I ask you to stay again? I'll sleep better with you there, and I very much need to sleep well right now."

Miranda had held many offbeat jobs in the past, but "nap enabler" was a new one even for her. She liked it. She profoundly hoped she wouldn't get herself fired this time. "Of course, general," she said, trying to hide how happy it made her to be asked. She had the feeling she wasn't very good at hiding things. Not one of her very few skills.

"Thank you," Klaud said, looking genuinely relieved to hear her answer. "If you'd like to go get a book or something, by all means."

"I think I will, if it's all right," Miranda said diffidently. It was still early in the evening; she wouldn't be sleepy herself for hours yet, and though she was very comfortable with boredom and tedium, there didn't seem much point subjecting herself to it when she had express permission to avoid it instead.

When she came back, book in hand, Klaud had managed to peel off her grimy uniform and exchange it for a nightgown, and had crawled into her big beautiful bed, and was already well on her way to sleep from what Miranda could tell. Her hair was a mess, and she was doubtless grimy all over, but making it to the showers was obviously out of the question.

Miranda gathered up the filthy uniform and set it by the door, so she could take it to the launderer in the morning. She would take the sheets and covers, as well, and the nightgown once the general was in the baths. She could sweep up whatever had fallen on the floor, too, so that the room would be clean and fresh for the general when she returned, clean and fresh herself.

There wasn't much she could do to help, usually, but she could do things like this, and she felt compelled to do everything she could to help the woman who had taken her in. Even if they were small, surely it would be a relief for the general to have them off her plate. There was so much on it already.

Smiling to herself, Miranda curled up in the armchair and opened her book.

**x**   



End file.
